Page 39 of Dating His Brother

Epilogue

My happy place. A beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon in the studio with all the windows open, music blaring, my bare foot pressing up and down on the pottery wheel. My arms covered up to my elbows in wet clay as I shaped the pot on the wheel to perfection.

Once it was finished, I slid a wire under the base and moved the vessel to a board to dry. The owner of the ceramics shop, Robbie, took the finished piece from my hands and put it with the others.

“Beautiful, Izzy,” he beamed. “You’re becoming a real pro. Should I throw on another hunk of clay onto the wheel for you?”

I glanced up to the clock on the wall. “Not today, Robbie. It’s our dinner party tonight. You’ll be there later, right?”

He nodded as I walked over to the sink to wash up. “As soon as I close up here. I wouldn’t miss it. Save some of your delicious dinner for me.”

“Will do,” I smiled.

He looked out the wide open doors, wiping some sweat from his brow. “That summer heat is setting in. Will you and Dawson be heading up to the Hamptons for the summer?”

“No,” I told him. “No need to. We have everything we need right here at home. Besides, I doubt any pottery studio they have there compares to yours. And what would I do without my weekends buried in clay?”

After rinsing the clay muck from my hands and arms, and everywhere else it managed to splatter, I slid my feet into my flip-flops and grabbed my big woven purse. My long skirt flowed in the breeze as I walked out, my jewelry jingling as I went down the street.

I stopped by the market on my way home, picking out produce and fresh bread from all the local farmers. The little town we moved to just outside the city was small enough that everyone knew each other. The cashier complimented me on my earrings, and when I told her I made them myself, I offered to give her a pair for free.

“You and your husband are so generous.” She smiled in thanks. “The town really has become something special ever since he came along and started donating all that money to the community.”

I gathered my bags and started the walk home. I loved the long winding, scenic roads. Everything was spaced out enough that it felt like the country, but everything was still close enough that it was easy to get everywhere by foot.

Our little cottage was nestled at the end of a long dirt road. There were wide open fields of green grass and beautiful gardens all around. I never knew I could enjoy nature so much, but Dawson was right. It really was so inspiring. And now that I had so many creative endeavors, I had learned to really appreciate that kind of thing.

One of my favorite new hobbies was cooking, and apparently I was pretty good at it. I went into the kitchen as soon as I got home and started working on dinner for that evening—pot roast with my special vegetable medley recipe.

In the middle of preparing the food, I felt two strong arms wrap around me from behind. Dawson’s warm body pressed into mine as he buried his face in my hair and nuzzled against my neck, kissing it up and down.

“It smells delicious,” he murmured with a smile.

“Thank you. How’s it going in there today?” I tilted my head towards his adjoining painting studio.

“I’ve started a new landscape. A sunset,” he replied. “Inspired by you, of course.”

The house was small, but had such a perfect layout so that everything still felt so wide and open. We often kept all the doors and windows open when the weather was nice. The whole place filled up with glorious fresh air and the sounds of the wind chimes singing from the wrap-around porch.

Jack did ask Dawson to give in and take his share of his family’s money. It didn’t matter how much money I had of my own. He was stuck in this idea that Dawson needed to prove he wasn’t just trying to freeload off of me. Dawson would have done anything to have me and prove how genuine his love was. So, he took the money. Between the two of us, we bought the house and set aside a modest amount we needed to live off of. The rest went to charities, art foundations, and the local community centers of the town we now lived in.

I did make one exception to our new lifestyle though, setting aside a hefty sum for shopping and to travel back into the city for fashion shows and galas from time to time. I may have changed a lot, but there were some parts of the old Isabella that weren’t going anywhere.

Just as the sun was starting to set, I went out onto the back patio and started setting our table for the party. Dawson had built a long farmhouse style table low to the ground, and I had picked out big plush pillows to line up on either side for seating. The center was lined up with big fresh bouquets of flowers and everything was glowing in the light of string edison bulbs dangling overhead.

As I arranged the colorful plates and silverware, Dawson came out and leaned against one of the posts, watching me closely. “You ever miss your mansion?” he asked after a while.

“No,” I grinned, admiring the beautiful setting we had made together. “Do you ever miss your little studio?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “But all this fresh air makes up for it.” He walked over to pull me in for a kiss. “And having the most beautiful woman in the world around all the time really sells me on this place too.”

As our lips pressed together, his tongue parted my lips, rolling through my mouth. I moaned with the buzz of desire which he always managed to spark in me so easily. He backed me up to the table until my thighs pressed against the edge. I was seconds away from sliding onto it to sit, spreading my legs around him so his roaming hands could find their way up my skirt.

But we were interrupted by a knock on the front door and someone calling out to us from the porch.

“Sorry,” I whispered against his lips. “It seems our guests are starting to arrive. Can we pick up on this later?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” he chuckled, nibbling along my collarbone—down to the dip of my cleavage. “I’ll save you for dessert.”

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